


Party Like It's $99.99* (per day; additional surcharges may apply)

by wynnesome



Series: 2020 SteveTony Games [1]
Category: Iron Man (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Contest of Champions (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Porn, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blow Jobs, Civil Warrior, Cockwarming, Exhibitionism, Extremis 3.0, M/M, Multiverse, No Aftercare, Oral Sex, Orgy, Original Male Character - Freeform, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Public Use, Sex Parties, Smut, SteveTony Games, Superior Iron Man Vol 1. (2015), Unrealistic Portrayal of Tech Conference Sex Parties, Unsafe Sex, abusive relationship dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24715396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnesome/pseuds/wynnesome
Summary: Superior Iron Man Tony and Civil Warrior Steve have public sex at a party, then make Steve's mouth available for public use, with an immediate taker.Dead center of it all sat Tony Stark in full sprawl on a red velvet couch, the lines of his sleek, black suit disturbed only far enough for his belt and fly to spread open. Still, he revealed no skin; white shirt-tails dovetailed around hollowed cheeks, as Steve Rogers, clad only in a heavy, adamantium-beringed leather body harness and matching cock-cage, knelt between his legs with neck bent, containing Tony's cock in the luxury suite of his mouth.Please read the tags and AN! This fic touches upon some dark themes, with heavily implied abusive relationship dynamics and possible questions of consent.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Male Character(s), Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: 2020 SteveTony Games [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786930
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33
Collections: Team Angst





	Party Like It's $99.99* (per day; additional surcharges may apply)

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this with a clear purpose in mind to fulfill several of the unused kink prompts still needed by Team Angst in the SteveTony Games. I had a solid picture of what kinks were involved, and what the immediate scene looked like, and... very little idea of anything else. Partway through writing, I started asking myself, "Wait -- Which Bingo square for the Games does this fill? What universe is this? What Steve is this? What's going on with this cold, possibly sociopathic Tony?"
> 
> I decided I was probably writing Tony as Superior Iron Man, and that I did _not_ want this to be the corresponding (and at that point in canon, deserumed and aged) 616 Steve Rogers, but a Steve from another universe. From there, "Steve from another dimension, where he'd killed Tony in Civil War," AKA Civil Warrior, seemed like a perfect fit.
> 
> So this is 616 Superior Iron Man, and Marvel Contest of Champions Civil Warrior, but let's be very clear: It's an AU of both canons.
> 
> I'm not sure if Civil Warrior ever takes his armor off, or is actually human under the armor at all, rather than a full-on cyborg, And I've invented wholesale the established BDSM relationship between this Civil Warrior and his dead Tony, plus the implication that he allows himself to be ill-used now, as self-punishment for his role in his Tony's death. On the other side of the table, everything going on in 616 during the time when SIM was around is... complicated. And this SIM seems to have some differing traits and proclivities than his canon personality. Or maybe just some taken a little further than what's shown canonically.
> 
> So, my little plan to write a ficlet set at a sex party that included some bonus kink prompts turned into a SIM AU/Civil Warrior AU with a tiny bit of backstory and heavily implied abusive relationship dynamics. Go Tiny Angstsplosion!

  
A free shot of Extremis 3.0 for everyone, via the punch bowl -- no one had best dare to impugn Tony Stark's generosity -- and the Saturday night after-party for the weekend's tech conference was in full swing.

The hall was large, but retained its intimate ambiance with warm, low lighting and sumptuous, elegant decor, all lustrous wood, jewel tones, and plush carpets and cushions to sink into, miles deep. 

For those who took their pleasures with less pampering, there were several corners partitioned off to sequester the sharper gleam of metal, with subtly sloped bare floors to drain the fluid runoffs.

Dead center of it all sat Tony Stark in full sprawl on a red velvet couch, the lines of his sleek, black suit disturbed only far enough for his belt and fly to spread open. Still, he revealed no skin; white shirt-tails dovetailed around hollowed cheeks, as Steve Rogers, clad only in a heavy, adamantium-beringed leather body harness and matching cock-cage, knelt between his legs with neck bent, containing Tony's cock in the luxury suite of his mouth. 

* * *

He'd shown up through the dimensional gate in Richards' lab one afternoon, dressed in a worn hoodie and jeans, with a armored Captain America uniform and shield in one locked case -- opened once then never again -- and his leather in another. A man of few words, closer to silent than succinct, he shared little more than he was from a plane where "his" Tony Stark had been lost to... something apparently unspeakable.

For a Stark who hadn't found the ways and means to preserve himself, an ignominious erasure was all he deserved, Tony deemed. He could imagine no possible commonality with that pathetic, lost counterpart. But where there was himself, there was always a Steve, and his own amenability to the "arrangement" the new arrival had had with his Stark was a stroke of good fortune. Whatever the nature of the relationship that had been, back in his home universe, this Steve would inevitably realize himself to be in superior hands, now.

* * *

Hands -- Tony lowered one to trail through Steve's fine, gold hair, once, absently pleased by the liquid softness of the strands, before replacing the arm in its original position along the back of the couch. Steve whined faintly. Tony left it unaddressed; his conversation with the cybersecurity specialist seated to his left and the roboticist standing angled to face them never faltered. Nor did his gaze shift down or center. It was fascinating, and illicitly amusing, to hear them speak smugly of their work, never to realize that their cutting edges came reasonably close to matching his own advancements -- of several years past. 

At a lull, he finally glanced aside. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, Mistresses, I have a small matter to which I must attend." 

Their polite murmurs fell out of his awareness as he tugged Steve's head from his crotch, leaving his saliva-streaked, half-hard cock open to view.

"Close, if you want to." 

He took his unhurried time perusing Steve's pink lips, wet with spit-trails leaking like tears from the corners, and watching the subtle working of his jaw and the bob of his Adam's apple through several thick swallows as he reacclimated to his mouth being deoccupied. 

For the moment.

Steve's eyes were hooded; he was well under. As he should be, with all this devoted attention.

"Turn," Tony commanded, and Steve shuffled around on his knees till he faced outward, rather than inward, between Tony's thighs. "Good. Now, mouth open. Wide." He had no need of seeing Steve's face to be certain he'd complied. 

Resting his hands on the slopes of Steve's shoulders, Tony gripped hard into the thick muscle, simply for his own enjoyment of the texture. It would effect neither pain nor pleasure upon Steve; it took practically hammering at the man like metal at his forge to give him any kind of meaningful massage. They'd do that another time. Right now was for watching and being watched.

A man approached: sandy blond, shirtless and slim, his lower body draped in loose, light-colored fabric. He tipped his head to Tony. "May I?"

"By all means. Make him useful. But no hands. I'll move him, if it's necessary."

The man unslung his sarong and tossed the fabric over his shoulder, revealing a short, girthy cock that stood ready. He guided it into Steve's mouth, then tucked his hands out of the way behind his back. Tony could tell from the proportions that it was a comfortable fit, no strain at all to have his waxed-smooth groin nudged right up to Steve's nose. This one wouldn't make Steve work, but an easy job well done was as important as a demanding one. Not to mention, both the right and the ability were his alone, when it came to devising the challenges that could truly push Steve's limits

Tony watched their guest settle in, listening to the shift in Steve's breathing as one access to his airway was partially restricted. "Seal your lips," he directed. He had to be responsible for _everything_ ; in this state, breathing was about the only thing Steve would continue to do without explicit instruction.

" _Mmm_ ," the man hummed appreciatively. "Nice and warm. Cozy."

Tony nodded. "He is. You like it like this, or want him to suck?"

"I'm enjoying myself. Maybe in a minute."

"Just say the word." Tony's dick was dry now, so he went ahead and tucked himself away, nice and neat, neither stroking himself nor feeling the tempting burn of arousal. The event's industry affiliation was merely a convenient entree. This was Steve's scene. He'd find his own gratification... differently. Later.

While he let Steve perform, Tony looked upon the room. Aesthetically appealing figures in all shapes, sizes, and colors conjoined in a multitude of permutations, percolating in plotted trajectories and seething, mindless motion. The air was spiced with incense and body secretions, pulsing with slaps and thuds, singing with moans, cries, and shouts. 

Orchestra, percussion, and chorus. Tony was a man of culture, and he did enjoy a night at the symphony.

"Ok, blow me now," their patron requested, slightly breathless. Tony could see his hips starting to twitch restlessly, and from the shifting of his shoulders, he was probably wringing his hands behind his back.

Tony brought his own hands back to Steve, this time setting them lightly at the base of his neck, index fingers wrapping just above his collar bones, where he could push into the dips. He liked to be able to feel those soft spots as Steve's throat worked, as he sucked and swallowed. 

"Suck him, Steve." Tony confirmed the order. "Put some effort into it. He's ready to go."

"Yeah, yeah," sandy-hair was already beginning to chant, kicking short, sharp thrusts into Steve's mouth. Steve's blood beat under Tony's fingers, the tendons of his neck corded cable-taut. He could feel the uneven, upward stretch and release he knew stemmed from Steve's tongue moving, soaking and rubbing the guy's cock while he sucked in long, strong pulls.

"Fuck, ah, _mmm, hhmmMMM_ ," their man gasped out in a rising pitch, his rhythm stuttering and stalling. Steve's throat convulsed in Tony's hands as he took down the liquid shot into him with a low gurgle.

After a short pause, breathing heavily, his eyes closed and lower lip bitten in his teeth, the man pulled out, shiny with the traces, and took a step back. He dried himself off with a corner of his garment and hitched it back into place around his hips. "Thank you," he told Tony. "Your boy's got a great mouth." 

"You're a man who knows quality," Tony agreed, feeling loose and magnanimous. He derived a self-affirming satisfaction from having something proven desirable that he could provide. "Glad he could be of service." With two fingers, he flicked out a caricature of a salute to close the exchange. 

Steve was passive under Tony's other hand, and Tony was ready for a change of pace. He rolled to his feet, hauling Steve up and swiveling him around by the harness, then switched to a firm grip on the front-center ring. Steve evinced no sign of shakiness or muscle fatigue, though there was no reason he would. He stood docile and compliant, unfocused, but rock-steady.

Tony hadn't yet told him to close his mouth, and it remained a slack ellipse after being shaped around the now-removed shaft. He slid a finger inside, pressing on the rough pad of Steve's tongue, swiping around his upper teeth, and scooping, slick and creamy, along the inside of his cheek. He transferred his finger to his own mouth, tasting it pensively. Vile, objectively speaking, stale and sour. But there was value in the possession, and his right to it, the evidence of each encounter unique, to be experienced, consumed and not squandered.

He cupped fingertips around Steve's jaw from underneath and pushed it up. "Anything to say? No? Good, it's time to go home. Follow." He started off, aware of Steve to his side and just behind, a well-trained dog to heel. On the way to the exit, he stopped them only once, barring up an arm and letting Steve walk into it, so he could take in a particularly brutal bit of bloodplay being inflicted with a filleting knife. Steve's chest began expanding more rapidly against his arm, and then rumbled with a quiet growl. Tony marched them onward, adding it to his list of infractions.

Punishment would occur in private, once they were home. 

And then Steve could give Tony a nice rubdown, as thanks and reward for seeing to his needs so thoroughly. It was such poor form, after all, to skimp on the aftercare.


End file.
